


Couples Night

by GunTotingScienceNerd



Series: Prompt Fills [20]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Multi, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunTotingScienceNerd/pseuds/GunTotingScienceNerd
Summary: Anonymous said:Prompt: Perceptor/Drift/Ratchet “ you know I can’t do this out here — stop it!”It morphed into this. Hope you don't mind Anon.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beloved friend for beta-ing and being awesome. <3

Perceptor slid into their chosen corner booth first. Drift stopped by the bar to pick up their drinks, so Ratchet slid in next. Perceptor turned to face his long time partner and threw his leg over Ratchet’s, the CMO parting his knees a little wider to make room for his lover’s long limb. “You’ve been working too much again, dearest. You need to let the others take more of the workload. We aren’t at war, and no catastrophes loom on our horizon.” Perceptor cooed as he nuzzled the side of Ratchet’s helm. 

Ratchet smiled, ducking his head to hide the blush rising up his face from the attention. He did have his gruff, curmudgeonly reputation to uphold, after all. “If you stop acting like a love-sick hatchling, I might be persuaded.” 

Perceptor licked the edge of Ratchet’s chevron and purred into his lover’s audial, “But you are so responsive, and admit it or not you like me acting like a love-sick hatchling, especially when it involves my not being able to keep my hands to myself.” Dark fingers traced the inner seam of Ratchet’s thigh. 

Three glasses of various kinds of energex slid across the table as Drift joined them at the booth. “Starting without me? That’s hardly fair. Ratchet’s fun when he’s trying to be all appropriate and resist-y.” He leaned around Ratchet pulling Perceptor in a showy kiss. Both purring and leaving mouths open to show Ratchet their tongues sliding against each other. 

“You know I can’t do this out here.” Ratchet groused. “I’m supposed to be respectable, and you two hellions are not making that easy.” He tried to sound chastising but the heat poured off his frame, and the tremble in his hands gave him away as he pulled first one, then the other of his lovers into a kiss. 

It was Drift’s turn to purr in Ratchet’s ear while Perceptor kissed him senseless. “You’re not at some Deltaran medical conference, you’re here, with us. And we’ve missed you, Sweetling.” 

“Stop it.” Ratchet shivered as Drift’s claws found delicate seams along his hands and did much more under the table. 

Perceptor ended this kiss and locked his gaze with Ratchet’s overly bright half focused optics. “Do you want us to stop? We will if you want. That isn’t _the word_ , though, so I don’t really think you do, do you, Dearest?”

Ratchet shifted his gaze to the room at large. “Someone will see.” 

Drift snorted. “Hardly. It’s couples’ night, lovely. There’s not a couple in here that’s not up to something and most aren't even trying to hide it.” He took Ratchet’s chin from Perceptor, leaning the medic back against his chest as he pointed out various other mecha ensconced about Swerve’s. “See those two sitting so close together? They're watching a movie they made of themselves. Look at the way Chromedome’s shoulder is moving, and the way Rewind’s moving with it. I’ll bet you anything what he’s sitting on is more hand shaped than any booth or chair in this place. Seats don’t move like that Ratchet.” Ratchet’s breath shuddered as Perceptor found a particularly sensitive line in his neck. “And those two are hiding behind Hound’s hologram. It shimmers and gets just dim enough for you see through, which doesn’t matter too much since Mirage has his cloak on. Never watched two mechs frag like that.” 

Drift tilted Ratchet’s head back a little more and licked the length of his chevron before he continued. “Those two are not the two you’d expect to see together. Bluestreak gets off on being dominant, but I’m sure you already knew that. Cyclonus gets off on being commanded. Ridgid posture, only drinking when he’s told, and he’s only told when Bluestreak needs to distract him from overloading. Probably from a toy; he’s hiding the remote in his hand.” 

Drift nibbled at the back of Ratchet’s neck, fangs grazing the taut cables there. “See Ultra Magnus there in the corner?” Drift pointed to a secluded nook at the edge of the bar. When Ratchet nodded, Drift’s hand fell, claws scratching along Ratchet’s windscreen. “Looks like he’s reading right?” Ratchet nodded and gasped a breath as Perceptor’s tongue slowly laved over each of Ratchet’s fingers one by one. “Open your eyes, lover. I’ve got more to show you.”

Ratchet groaned but did as Drift asked. “You see Magnus right? But do you see Swerve?” Ratchet’s gaze first went to the bar, not there. He looked around the room, again not there. “I wonder Ratchet, what’s that on Magnus’ thigh?” It took him a moment to focus, but once he did he noticed a small red hand stroking Magnus from knee to hip slowly and just barely visible. Ratchet watched the kibble that rose above Swerve’s head move back and forth in a smooth rhythm. “He gets good use out of that big mouth, wouldn’t you say?” Ratchet nodded, he didn’t dare speak he wasn’t even sure he could. 

“Open, Sweetling,” Perceptor’s breath ghosted across his audial and Ratchet's panels opened without conscious thought. As Drift drew him into another kiss, Perceptor drew his finger along the swollen lips of his valve, swirling them slowly inward. 

“We're not done yet Ratch. I've got more to show you. Notice the dance floor?” Ratchet fought to focus, biting his lip to keep from crying out as one of Perceptor’s long fingers entered him slowly. “You notice yet that it’s empty? Skids and Nautica were there earlier. Now look over there.” Drift pointing to a darkened corner of the dance floor, a spot usually reserved for those more interested in dirty dancing than actually enjoying the music. The lights flashed different colors, and finally one hit the wall. There in the corner was Skids, hands clawing at the wall above his helm and for a moment Ratchet wondered if he were trying to climb the wall to get into the vents again. But the light shifted colors again, from the rose color it had been to a golden hue, which provided the answers he needed. Skids wasn’t trying to reach the vents. He was climbing the walls because Nautica, being slightly smaller than him, was at the perfect height to spike him against the wall. Her arm held his leg off the ground as she set a quick, hard pace behind him. Ratchet watched as Skid’s optics rolled up body stilling as his overload stilled his frame, only to see Nautica stop all motion, small and delicate hand directing Skids’ face around to look at her. He nodded at her, meeting her kiss before slowly she began again. 

Ratchet lost interest in their show when a second finger joined Perceptor’s first. He worked them in slowly, stretching and spreading them as he went. “So wet already, Sweetling? You must be losing your reservations about our current location?”

By way of an answer, Ratchet pulled Perceptor into a biting kiss. Drift’s voice dropped to the low growling tones they loved so much. “I think what he's trying to say is ‘shut up and fuck me,' Percy.” Ratchet rumbled in agreement. “Well, he can’t, not just yet, there’s one more thing I want to show you. Not that you’ll be terribly surprised for part of it, but the other might catch you off guard.” 

Ratchet released Perceptor. “Then show me whatever it is and stop fragging teasing me.” 

“Fine, cranky aft, lean up on the table. This one’s going to be difficult from where you’re sitting. Don’t give me that look, trust me. It’ll be worth it all right?” Ratchet bit back a moan as Perceptor’s fingers left his valve, giving Drift another angered look. He stood and braced his hands on their table, then leaned forward to see whatever Drift was so adamant about showing him. He looked around the corner of their booth into the one on the adjacent wall.

“He’s going to be sore in the morning but damn if he doesn’t love it, and Rodi too. Fragger is in heaven right now. Let me tell you from experience the flares and ridges on that spike are divine, and Megatron knows exactly what he’s doing. Trust me I speak from experience.” Drift purred in Ratchet's audial.

Perceptor curled over Ratchet’s back to join their conversation. “Drift, honey, you almost sound jealous.” Ratchet groaned as Perceptor slowly lined himself up to Ratchet’s empty aching valve pushing forward just enough to stretch the outermost ring. 

“Not a chance, I mean he’s good, and all but two’s always better than one. Especially when that two is you.” Drift leaned back to kiss Perceptor while Ratchet watches the lovers take their pleasure in each other.

He watched as Rodimus’ mouth moved but he could hear no sounds. Breathless little whimpers, moans and occasionally something that looked like yes, please, or more. Megatron’s hands were dancing along Rodimus’ frame, drawing more pleasure from his speedster, and also ensuring Rodimus didn’t hurt himself in his enthusiasm. Ratchet had never seen such an open, caring look on Megatron’s face. Had he not witnessed this himself, he too would have continued to believe, as others did, that the affection was one-sided. But the scene before him was far from one-sided. Gold fingers scratched at gray chest. Black hands traced the heated pale face. Praise and reverence pour from Megatron’s lips. Ratchet watched as Rodimus curled forward onto Megatron’s chest. Large gray arms bent around Rodimus, grinding up into him as the smaller mech keened through his overload. Ratchet felt as much as heard Megatron growl as he followed. The two sat curled together for a moment. When Megatron shifted to lay his head atop Rodimus’, he noticed Ratchet’s gaze. Softly spoken words had Rodimus looking over his shoulder to meet Ratchet’s optics. He smiled at the medic, bliss still evident on his face before turning back to Megatron and seeking out another kiss. 

If anymore happened between those two, Ratchet was unaware as Perceptor’s slow slide became a delicious stretch. “Sit back, love, Drift, and I have had our fill of sharing you.” Perceptor wrapped his arms around Ratchet’s middle, pulling the medic back to sit in his lap. Ratchet’s weight eased Perceptor’s spike deeper. “Spread your legs dearest. Drift wants to taste you.” 

“Please,” Ratchet panted, circling his hips in Perceptor’s lap. 

“Hold still and let us take care of you,” Drift said as he edged over to Ratchet’s lap. He flashed his lovers a fanged smirk before taking a long swipe with his tongue across the head of Ratchet’s throbbing spike. Drift smirked again as Ratchet's entire frame shuddered at his slightest attention. “Feel good, Ratch? Want more? How about I swallow you down like the treat you are.” 

“Don’t tease him too much dearest, or else he’ll not last for your playtime.” Perceptor stroked his hand down Drift’s spine, cupping his heated panel. “If you stop teasing dear Ratchet and move closer, I’ll see what I can do about making you ready to be the center of round two.” A quick shifting forward from Drift, a gasp from Ratchet and Perceptor knew this was going to be hot and fast. He rocked his hips up in small, slow thrusts. He didn’t want to dislodge Drift, and the slight movements would be just enough of a tease to drag out Ratchet’s overload to mind-blowing, processor tripping proportions. Ratchet’s head fell back against his shoulder, and Perceptor took full advantage of it. “He feels so good like that doesn’t he, Sweetling?” He kissed along Ratchet’s jaw and at the corner of his panting mouth. “His warm mouth, the scrape of those shape fangs, his tight little throat constricting around your spike. And his face, Ratchet. You should see how utterly blissed he becomes while sucking your spike. He’s beautiful even on his worst days, but in this he is exquisite.” 

Drift purred at the compliment, and Ratchet gasped at the purr. Perceptor stopped tracing the lips of Drift’s exposed valve and pushed one finger to hook it and pulled on one particular set of sensory nodes. He slid Ratchet’s torso to the side, and dark fingers tipped Ratchet’s chin up for a kiss. Ratchet whimpered as Drift worked him deep, tongue teasing each ridge and platelet, tracing bio-lights, and purring, oh the purring was going to drive him mad. His hands twitched, he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. They hadn’t told him he wasn’t, but they also hadn’t said he was. 

Perceptor ended their kiss but kept Ratchet’s face close. “He’s so very wet. You should feel him Ratchet.” Ratchet heard Drift whine and understood why when Perceptor’s wet fingers entwined with his own. Perceptor guided Ratchet’s hand into Drift’s valve. Sensors in his hands lighting up information rushed at him. Before he could spare half a thought to analyze the information Ratchet, felt Perceptor’s fingers slide inside their lover alongside his own. Drift pulled off Ratchet long enough to gasp, whine and give them a breathless, “Yes, you feel so good inside me.” Drift nuzzled at Ratchet’s torso before he returned to displaying his pleasure in the long deep slide of his mouth on Ratchet’s spike. With his lovers’ dual attention, Ratchet was lost to his pleasure. Perceptor’s rolling thrusts, Drift’s throat constricting and purring around him it was too much and not enough until Perceptor’s cultured voice reached him through his bliss filled haze. “You’re so very wet for me. I can feel you leaking all around my spike. Such a wanton thing, aren’t you, dearest. Is it my spike that’s making you so, or is it our fingers filling Drift so deliciously, or maybe it’s the way Drift is sucking your spike? His hot mouth, the way he works his tongue to find all those sensitive little spots, and how he tightens his throat in perfect little pulses. So good, isn’t he, Ratchet?” 

Ratchet moaned at the words. Charge jumped between his plates. Perceptor must have noticed that Ratchet was close and signaled Drift. Perceptor changed his grip to hold Ratchet tight around his middle and rocked his hips into the medic faster. Drift squeezed Ratchet’s spike around the base before playing with Ratchet’s anterior node pressing on it hard before twisting it between his fingers. 

Ratchet’s overload crashed on him like the incoming tide, slowly building but never relenting. It was perfect how these two could tease the most intense overloads from him reducing him to strutlessness in an amount of time that seemed to go on forever and never long enough. When he was finally able to think again, Ratchet realized he was seated again between his two lovers, both curled around him, stroking his still-shaking frame and speaking softly about how beautiful he was, how they adored him so and how much they appreciated him. He hummed and snuggled into Perceptor’s side, pulling Drift tight to him. “As much as I love our nights out, I’d love to spend the rest of the night in, with just the two of you.

Perceptor kissed the top of his helm. “I think that can be arranged.” 

“As soon as you can walk again,” Drift teased before claiming a kiss.


End file.
